


the things you do for love are going to come back to you one by one

by procrastinatingbookworm



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Affection, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, References to Depression, Stranger (affectionate), Touch-Starved, this is schmoopy but they deserve good things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29601258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm
Summary: Zagreus stops by Patroclus' glade and finds him having some difficulties. True to form, he offers to help.
Relationships: Patroclus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 114





	the things you do for love are going to come back to you one by one

It takes Zagreus until he’s standing right in front of Patroclus to realize that something is off.

In his defense, Patroclus looks exactly the same as he always does from a distance. He sits with one knee half drawn up and the other stretched out in front of him, leaning back on one hand. 

His head is lowered, though he looks up when Zagreus approaches, a smile twisting his mouth.

Zagreus stops in his tracks. “Oh. Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Patroclus’ chiton is rucked up around his hips, and he has his cock in his hand. It’s soft, as far as Zagreus can tell, despite Patroclus’ thumb working across the head.

He laughs when Zagreus apologizes. Doesn’t put his cock away, or even take his hand off it. Just laughs, soft and bitter. “As you can see, there’s not much happening.”

Zagreus hesitates, but Patroclus isn’t embarrassed. In fact, there’s a vague relief in his grief-weary smile. 

He gestures to the space beside him with his free hand, lifting it up off the grass despite the way his body is leaned back. There’s no waver to his posture, even with the support of his hand gone.

Zagreus can’t see past the hard bronze of his chestplate and the fabric of his bunched-up chiton, but he can imagine the way Patroclus’ stomach flexes, holding himself upright as he invites Zagreus to sit.

What can Zagreus do but accept?

He settles next to Patroclus in a crouch, sitting on his heels, elbows propped on his knees, leaning in. “Any particular reason you were, er—?”

“You see, stranger… with all the nectar you’ve been bringing me, and these conversations… I’ve felt more than just sorrow, these past days or nights or what-have-you. I thought I might be able to prolong it with…” Patroclus squeezes his cock demonstratively. “But to no avail. I haven’t the heart for it, I suppose.”

Zagreus bites his lip. “You’ve tried thinking of Achilles, sir?”

Another laugh. Amused, but not quite cheerful. Patroclus’ eyes are dull with grief, even when he’s smiling. It’s an expression Zagreus has seen on Achilles’ face more times than he can count.

“I did try. I’m far too bereaved.” Patroclus rolls his eyes, not quite smiling anymore, but still, somehow, laughing.

“Is,” Zagreus starts, vaguely bewildered. “Is something funny, sir?”

Patroclus looks at him through half-lidded eyes. “I so often forget that you’re a god. You seem very human.”

It was never a compliment when Zagreus’ father said it, but coming from Patroclus, he thinks it must be. “Thank you, sir.”

That wins him a smile. “You’re welcome, stranger. The joke is that older humans, men especially,” Patroclus pets the head of his cock with his thumb. “Have some trouble getting it up, so to speak. I knew I would die young, because I knew Achilles would, so I doubted I would ever have to worry about it.”

Zagreus blinks. There’s too much there to process, so he doubles back to his first thought. “Maybe I could help you.”

He expects Patroclus to laugh.

Instead, Zagreus gets to watch as he takes off his breastplate and sets it aside, then unpins his cloak and lies back on it, pulling up his chiton and spreading his legs. “Feel free, stranger. But don’t take it personally if I— _ah_.”

Zagreus grins, pressing another kiss to the head of Patroclus’ cock. It’s still soft in his palm—a little smaller than Meg’s favorite toy and slightly bigger than Than, if he had to compare them.

“Stranger,” Patroclus says, sounding like the air’s been knocked out of his lungs.

“Can I suck your cock, Patroclus sir?” Zagreus asks.

Patroclus groans. “Only if you stop sounding so smug about it.”

Zagreus swallows down his laughter, if only so he can take Patroclus’ cock into his mouth properly. It fits on his tongue like it belongs there, soft and tasting faintly of salt. It’s probably warm, but Zagreus has always run hot, so the skin is cool against his tongue.

“Oh,” Patroclus says, in a smaller voice than Zagreus has ever heard from him, and Zagreus almost pulls off to make sure he’s all right, but Patroclus seizes a handful of his hair and holds him there. “Don’t you dare stop, stranger.”

Zagreus shifts his weight, settling to his knees to the grass of Elysium. He rests a hand at the base of Patroclus’ cock and starts to suck him off in earnest.

This, he can do. He might not be able to make Patroclus’ laughter reach his eyes, he might not be able to keep a smile on Achilles’ face for longer than a moment. He might not be able to escape his father or fix his family, or soothe the worried creases from Meg and Than’s faces, but he can give his mentor’s lover a damn good blowjob, and maybe they can all feel better about themselves afterwards.

Patroclus is hard, despite his disclaimer, and making tiny wounded sounds with every breath. Zagreus can hear him ripping at the grass, tearing it up over and over again.

Thanatos had torn the quilt with the sharp fingers of his prosthetic the first time Zagreus sucked him off. The ever-regrowing grass of Elysium is much less costly than a bedspread, at least.

“Stranger—” Patroclus gasps, his voice thin and breaking, like the ice at the banks of a river on the surface, cracking under the movement of the water and freezing again when it stills. “I’m—” 

That’s all the warning Zagreus gets before Patroclus comes, nearly silent but for a shattered little gasp. His hand tightens in Zagreus’ hair, then relaxes, slips away.

Zagreus swallows. It doesn’t taste like much. Faintly of salt. He eases off and sits down, catching his breath.

Patroclus is still lying flat on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other picking at the grass.

“Sir?” Zagreus asks. His voice is rough. He clears his throat, tries again. “Sir?”

“Heard you the first time,” Patroclus mutters. He drops his arm to the side, stretching it out until his fingers reach the bank of the Lethe. He sits up without bracing himself, and this time Zagreus gets to see the muscles of his stomach flex with the effort of rising.

There are tear-tracks on Patroclus’ face, from the corners of his eyes down to his temples, disappearing into the coils of his hair. He swipes them away with his palms, and smiles at Zagreus.

“I’m amazed that worked,” he says, still smiling, swiping his fingers under his eyes. His voice is louder than it usually is. Not by much, but Zagreus usually has to lean in to hear him, so it’s noticeable. “Drink this—” he hands over the Kiss of Styx, “—and I’ll kiss you, if you’d like.”

Bemused, Zagreus drinks, then sets the jar aside and leans in. Patroclus cups his chin between one curled finger and his thumb, guiding Zagreus into a kiss.

“You’re very good to me, stranger,” Patroclus says when he pulls back. Quiet again. Gentle, wondering. Awed, almost. His knuckle brushes across Zagreus’ bottom lip.

Zagreus smiles, dropping his chin to kiss Patroclus’ knuckles. “You and Achilles have both done so much for me. I think it would physically pain me not to be kind to you in return.”

It’s far too sweet of a thing to say to someone else’s lover, even if Zagreus has just sucked him off, but Patroclus takes it well. The orgasm probably helped.

He kisses Zagreus again, this time cupping his face between both hands, and his eyes are shining when he relents. “You’re wonderful, you know that? Don’t you ever change.”

Zagreus doesn’t know what to say to that. He works his mouth around words too small for how touched he feels.

Patroclus smiles, bright as the sun over the sea, and gestures toward the doors to the next chamber. “Go on, stranger. Back to your quest. Come see me again soon.”

Zagreus stands, brushes himself off, and bows. “Thank you, sir.”

Patroclus inclines his head in return. “And thank you, stranger,” he says, then chuckles to himself, as though at some joke he’s told himself, waving Zagreus onward.

The last thing Zagreus hears before the door closes on the glade is Patroclus’ gentle laughter, as soothing as song.


End file.
